


Could I Be

by Kkaepsongiya



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Superfamily, broken!Parksborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kkaepsongiya/pseuds/Kkaepsongiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker really thinks that his life is great: his dad and pops are caring and he has a loving boyfriend. Harry is perfect and he loves Peter...right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with a chaptered story this time~ I don't know how often I'll update this, but I'll try to post as I finish chapters...um...enjoy c:  
> P.S- The title(s) and story were inspired by Sylvan Esso's "Could I Be"

When Steve and Tony first meet Peter's boyfriend, they have ranging reactions. Steve, the perpetually-smiling parent, ushers both boys into the house, welcoming the blue-eyed boy into the house with kind eyes and a pat on the shoulder. Tony is different: his dark eyes are sharp as he watches the boy interact with his son. He frowns to himself, feeling a bit put off by the muted possessive look in Harry's eyes, the boy's expression putting Tony on edge; but, as he watches Peter blush at a comment made by the other boy, his son smiling widely—all teeth—and happily, he tries to shake it off. 

They all moved into the dining room, sitting at the table, passing plates of food around and engaging is small talk between bites and sips. Short laughs were shared between everyone, aiding in an airy, relaxed atmosphere, but Tony couldn't help but keep his gaze focused on Harry's hand, the appendage resting dangerously high up on Peter's thigh.


	2. I'm Covered In Soot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only takes a moment for everything to change...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Peter kept his last name when he was adopted~  
> I was gonna hold off posting this chapter but I felt bad because the prologue was short and shitty ono Also, this chapter was posted from my phone so excuse any shotty formatting >~>  
> Anyway, enjoy~

A month passes by and Peter Parker thinks he's in love. His heart races at the very sound of Harry's voice, blood colouring his face when Harry smiles at him or touches his skin. Peter feels a connection to Harry like no other: the blue-eyed boy always there when he was needed, always eager to see Peter, hold Peter, _touch_ _Peter_. Peter loved it and it's for that reason that Peter lets Harry pull him into bed.

Harry is quick to push Peter onto his back, his pale hands running all over Peter's clothed body as they made out heavily. It was rough and fast, all teeth, and it slightly unnerved Peter who was always used to Harry being gentle, the change making him worried of their coming activities. He feels anxiety wash over him in a wave as Harry practically tears his clothes off of his body; Harry's pace is almost frantic and it makes Peter, still a virgin, practically freak out, his boyfriend's new attitude sending shocks of fright through him. He loves Harry—he _knows_ he does—but it doesn't take away the twinge of fear he feels as Harry grabs his now-bare hips tightly, Harry's thumbs pressing down on his hipbones. Peter's breathing picks up and he shut his eyes as the boy hovers over him, biting at his neck until his teeth almost break the skin and leaving rough touches on his body that were sure to bruise. Peter begins to think, as pain forces small cries out of his mouth, that maybe he really _wasn't_ ready to give up his virginity and so he tries to tell Harry to stop.

His shaky command is ignored, Harry pushing their bare hips together hard, the older boy moaning while Peter gasped, his brown eyes widening: he had never been touched like this before and while it felt good, Peter didn't like how rough Harry was being with him and it makes him continue to try to make Harry stop. Again, Peter tells him to stop, his hands pushing against Harry's strong chest, just wanting the boy to get off of him, to give him some space. Peter's breath comes out hard, his face turning red as he tries to make Harry stop, _just stop_. Like before, however, Peter is just ignored as Harry continues his ministrations and so, on instinct, Peter swings his arm up, the skinny limb hitting Harry in the side of the head hard enough to stun him. The impact was not nearly hard enough to knock the boy off of him and so Peter is only able to watch as blue eyes slowly move down to look into his own tearful ones. It was funny: while Peter had always thought that Harry had beautiful eyes, in this moment, Peter thought them ugly, watching them cloud up with unrestrained anger.

A blunt object, one that Peter soon recognizes to be a fist, hits him in the face, the force throwing his head to the side. Sharp pain blossoms on Peter's left cheek and he cries out in pain, wincing as the taste of blood from his bitten tongue fills his mouth. Before he has time to turn and look back at Harry, the other boy moves again, grabbing Peter's face in a harsh grip and ripping it to the other side until they are face to face. Harry's face is a hair's width away from his own and Peter can't bring himself to move, still partially stunned by the fact that Harry had _hit him_ but also scared that if he did move, Harry would do it again. Harry had a crazed look in his eyes as he clenched his fingers on Peter's jaw, the brown-eyed boy whimpering in pain.

Taking in his lover's face, Harry felt something brewing inside of him. Peter's dark-brown eyes were wide and teary and his cheek was already darkening as a bruise formed where he was hit. Seeing him like this made Harry's heart swell—Peter looked so beautiful like this and it took Harry's breath away. It made him wonder briefly if Peter was ever left breathless because of him and this thought spurred him to move his hands away from Peter's face and down to his neck. His long fingers curled around Peter's neck and he squeezed, cutting off his boyfriend's air supply.

Peter's hands flew up and grabbed onto Harry's wrists, his bare legs sliding against the sheets on the bed as he tried to force the other's body off of his. He couldn't breathe and the thought of passing out (or _worse_ ) made him panic even more. He struggled to get a breath in, still trying to fight Harry off, his attempts failing. Tears fell rapidly down his face as his vision began to fade, a strangled " _Harry_ " leaving his blue-tinted lips. In an instant, the hands were removed from his throat, an open palm striking his left cheek again before everything was gone.

Peter immediately curled into himself, sobbing into the sheet under him. His eyes refused to close, too scared of another attack, so he watched Harry pace near the wall. The boy kept running his hands over his face, murmuring to himself. Suddenly, Harry slammed his fists against the wall and, too scared not to, Peter began crying harder. The sound drew Harry's attention over, blue eyes suddenly soft, and he made his way back over to the bed. He laid behind Peter, curling his body up against the smaller one and wrapping his arms around Peter's slim waist. He kissed Peter's shoulder repeatedly, soft little pecks to console the boy.

"Peter...my beautiful Peter, my perfect Peter...you know I love you, right?" Harry continued spreading kisses across Peter's bare skin—any place his dry lips could reach. Peter's sobs slowly died down into soft sniffles and trembling. He laid mostly still as Harry's hands caressed him, Harry's lips kissing his unresponsive body. A quick, sharp pain as Harry pinched his thigh jolted him.

"Peter, answer me when I ask you a question. You know I love you, _right_?" Harry's voice was stern, laced with aggression, the arm around Peter's waist tightening. After a short pause, Peter nodded, not wanting to experience any more pain. "Good. Remember that. I love you—I'm the only person that does, you know? Who was the one that was always there for you, huh? Me. It was always me, not that Gwen Stacy, not Stark or Rogers, your aunt or your uncles. It was always me, and it'll always be me. I'm the only one that's ever going to be there for you." Before he could even register his own actions, Peter jumped out of bed and hit Harry straight across the face, panting hard in anger.

"That's not true, Harry!!! Dad and Pops have always been there for me, even way before you ever were. Same with my aunt and uncles. They were all always there, even in the few instances that you weren't. They love me, Harry. More than you seem to. I'm leavi—" before he could finish his sentence, a large force knocked Peter to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. The hands were back around his neck, this time shaking while squeezing, Peter's head hitting the floor over and over again. The brown-haired boy fought against his attacker, hitting Harry the best he could from his awkward position, trying to get the boy off of him. Another hit of his head against the floor dazed Peter, his attempts to fight off Harry slowing significantly as his vision went hazy.

Using the moment to his advantage, Harry got off of Peter, dragging his mostly-limp body closer to the bed, pulling off the sheets and using them to tie Peter's hands to the foot of the bed. Peter struggled weakly against the binds, his head pounding from being slammed against the floor so many times. Suddenly, Harry is on him again, biting his collar bone hard enough to draw blood before licking it up slowly, moaning at the metallic taste. The pain makes Peter groan, his senses significantly affected from his head injuries, limiting his responses. Harry, takes this as a sign to continue, so he does. His long fingers pinch Peter's nipples, his sides, his hipbones, and his inner thighs—all of the places he knows Peter to be sensitive at. Tears leak out of Peter's eyes, the pain, mixed with knowledge of coming events, being too much for him to handle. A slurred cry of Harry's name spills out of his mouth, a fruitless attempt to bring Harry to his senses. Harry brushes him off, spreading Peter's legs wide and bending them, pushing Peter's knees to his chest so that he was fully exposed. Harry licks his lips as Peter's cries worsen, the boy begging for Harry to stop, to not do this to him.

"Peter," Harry starts, rubbing the backs of Peter's thighs slowly, "Peter, I'm just going to show you how much I love you." With that said, Harry thrust into Peter, no lubricant or preparation. Peter screamed bloody murder. He felt like he was being ripped apart and it hurt more than anything he had experienced—physically and mentally. Harry, his own lover, was doing this to him. Taking the one thing from him that he could never take back: his innocence. He could feel his throat straining as he screamed louder than he ever had before.

Harry moaned at Peter's tightness, reveling in the feeling of Peter clenching around him. Without giving any time to adjust, Harry began to move his hips, pulling back so that just his tip was inside of Peter, then snapping back inside fully. He threw his head back, keeping a fast pace, ignoring the sounds coming from Peter. Said boy was still screaming, sobbing and begging. Begging for Harry to stop. Begging for somebody to help him. His whole body felt like it was on fire and he could feel himself fading in and out of consciousness. Before he passed out from pain, Peter thought about dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 11, 2014: Fixed some minor grammar mistakes


	3. I'll Wear The Clothes You Put Me In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two-to-three more chapters after this. I'm hoping to finish this story before September >~> let's see what happens  
> P.S- The little flashback by Peter might be made into a little side-shot thingy c:

When Peter came to, it was dark save for a little stream of something (... _moonlight_?) from between the window curtains. He was laying on a bed that he knew wasn't his own, he was naked, and there was an arm wrapped securely around him. His heart skipped a beat, tears forming in his eyes and leaking out down his bruised face as pictures flowed through his mind, reminding him of what had happened earlier. His body shook with silent sobs, trying to keep quiet as to not wake up Harry who still slept peacefully next to him, holding the shaking boy's body close to his.

Trying to take deep breaths, Peter wondered how long he had been out and what had been done to him in that time. He wondered what time it was and, catching sight of a nearby clock, he grew worried, knowing that he was out later than his parents had expected and that they were probably worried over him. Just the thought of his Dad and Pops sitting and waiting around for him to show up made his weakened heart clench painfully in his heaving chest. It brought more tears to his eyes as he thought about what a burden he was sometimes—more often than not. He laid there, caged in by Harry and by his own thoughts, crying in sorrow. Peter felt so pathetic.

He shifted slightly, just barely able to contain a scream at the immediate pain that moving caused him, the feeling taking his breath away, his whole body aching. He panted, his hands balling into tight fists as he tried to carefully work his way out of Harry's grip, every movement sending waves of pain through his battered body. Finally free of Harry, Peter made to stand up but his shaking legs crumpled under him, his body too weak to hold his own weight and, this time, he couldn't hold in the cry of pain that left his mouth as his body slammed against the hard-wood floor. His ass was on fire, pain radiating all the way up his spine. His face was tender and swollen, his body covered in finger shaped bruises and bite marks. His heart stepped on— _broken_.

He knew he had to get home, needed to get somewhere away from Harry, but his body was too weak to even stand at the moment. Peter cried—humiliated—as he was forced to crawl to the connected bathroom, dragging his clothes on the floor behind him. The door was closed and locked behind him and, using the toilet and sink for leverage, Peter was able to pull himself up, leaning heavily against the sink for support as he stared at himself in the mirror. He immediately took in the dark bruise marring his left cheek, the already-fading finger-shaped bruises on his jaw and the redness of his throat, the area riddled with bite marks. He stared straight into his own eyes, the dark pools of brown dead, reflecting emotions of shame, humiliation, _disgust_. He was disgusted. With himself. He was disgusting.

He bit his trembling lip and turned away, gingerly putting on his clothes, glad that at least they weren't ripped (glad that they would be able to cover his beaten body). He bit his lip hard every time his clothes rubbed against him the wrong way, trying to force himself to ignore the almost-unbearable pain shooting through him. By the time he was fully dressed, 30 minutes had passed and he was still thinking about how he was going to get home without waking Harry, especially when he was so injured. His house was well over two miles away and he had gotten picked up by Harry for their date. He cursed himself— _you're such an idiot, Peter_ —for leaving his wallet home: he had no way to pay for a taxi and there was no way that he could call somebody to pick him up. If he did, they would find out and it wouldn't be long until the news was spread around, eventually being heard by his parents and just the thought of that—their disgust, their disappointment—made Peter sob. How would he be able to look them in the face after this? Peter sank down to the floor, pain making his body numb, and he just cried.

Tears streamed down his face until he felt like he was drowning and, when somebody knocked on the bathroom door, he wished that he _had_ been. He tried to silence himself, waiting for the person— _god, he hoped it wasn't Harry_ —to leave. The doorknob twisted and Peter was glad that he had remembered to lock the door because it didn't open and that meant that, for now, he was safe.

"Peter," a chillingly-familiar voice sounded from the other side, "open this door, Peter." It wasn't a request, more of a demand but Peter couldn't get himself to move, his whole body frozen in fear. Harry tried to turn the knob again, knocking on the door again, harder, his voice stern. Peter could hear his deep inhale as he went to speak again.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, open this door. _Now_." Peter could remember the last time that somebody had called him by his full name—it wasn't good. A fifteen-year-old him had skipped school and had gotten drunk with some older kids in a completely odd and spontaneous act of rebellion. He had had so much alcohol that he blacked out and the older kids—too scared to call anybody at the risk of getting in trouble—had just dropped Peter off in front of his house, laying his unconscious body on the porch and ringing the doorbell. When Steve had found him, the man panicked at his son's unresponsiveness and Peter was rushed to the hospital to have his stomach pumped. Peter had been grounded to high hell, but now they all tried to not think of that incident—it made Peter feel like shit, knowing how scared his parents must've been when he got rushed into the ER.

Now, hearing Harry say his full name, Peter could not help but shudder. It took all of his energy to force his body off of the ground and to the locked door. He gulped, his mouth and throat suddenly dry, his tongue thick, and unlocked the door. It was immediately pushed open and there Harry stood. Peter shrank under Harry’s intense gaze, his heart racing in anticipation. Harry stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Peter could barely breathe, his mind filling with thoughts of what could happen and really, after what had conspired earlier, it could be anything.

It was silent, Harry staring holes into Peter while the latter kept his gaze trained on the floor, not able to will himself to look up. Harry took a step closer and, before he could stop himself, Peter took a step back, the edge of the sink counter digging into his back. He forced himself to look up and was taken aback at the sudden look of hurt on Harry’s face. The boy stared at Peter in anguish as he took another step forward, trapping Peter between himself and the sink. Peter’s hands immediately rose to push Harry away but Harry was quicker, grabbing Peter’s trembling hands in his own and holding them.

He leaned down to bury his face in the junction of Peter’s neck, inhaling the boy’s scent. Peter shook, unable to fight Harry off and unable to control his emotions; instead, he was only able to stand there while Harry nuzzled his bare neck, his lips kissing the bite marks and faded bruises that were, just hours before, made by him. The sudden gentleness of the boy made Peter uneasy, the curly-haired boy waiting for Harry’s mood to just change again in the blink of an eye. Peter kept his eyes open.

Harry kissed up his neck to his face, pecking Peter’s bruised cheek gently then kissing the corner of his mouth. It felt sad— _apologetic_. Harry looked deep into Peter’s frightened eyes before wrapping his arms around the smaller boy and hugging him tightly. Peter stood, frozen, as Harry kissed the top of his head repeatedly, whispering broken apologies into his hair.

He was confused; Peter was so confused. He didn't understand what was happening or how to feel about it. Harry was holding him so lovingly and stroking his hair so softly that Peter couldn't help but lean into the gentle touch. Harry was acting like he usually did. Peter's heart told him that Harry didn't mean to hurt him earlier, that it wasn't a big deal because he loved Harry and Harry loved him back, but his mind told him to forget that. That Harry could never take back what he did, could never give back what he stole. Peter was afraid— _so fucking afraid_ —but he loved Harry so much. Tears leaked from his eyes as he leaned into Harry, wrapping his arms around the taller one's waist and burying his face in Harry's shirt. Said boy just held Peter tightly, apologizing and promising to never hurt him again. A quiet "I love you" left Harry's mouth, the words muffled by Peter's hair. Peter didn't even have to think before the same words left his mouth. Everything would be okay. They would be okay.


	4. I'm Covered In Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was fine...everything was fine...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has not been edited AT ALL. Please excuse any spelling, grammar, or tense mistakes. It's 3:19AM and I'm not in the mood for editing...maybe later (but probably not).

Another month passed by and Harry and Peter were happy together. After _that night_ , there had been no more... _incidents_. Everything had just reverted back to normal as if nothing had ever happened. Since then, Harry had become a bit more possessive, but Peter always just brushed it off because he thought that it was kind of cute: Harry must've just loved him so much that he didn't want Peter to hang around other people, and even though it bothered him that he rarely saw Gwen or Wade anymore, Harry was always around to keep him company, like now for instance.

The two boys were up in Peter's room alone, taking advantage of the fact that the boy's parents were out for the night. They were both half-dressed, their bodies pressed together as they kissed each other breathless. After _that night_ , Harry had become more handsy with Peter who, in turn, just allowed it. And so it wasn't anything new: Harry had Peter pinned to the bed, kissing down his neck, nipping on the skin every once in a while, the action making Peter tilt his head to allow Harry more access. Said boy continued to move down, kissing Peter's perky nipples on his way to the top of the boy's pants. He glanced up, eyes clouded as Peter placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I don't know, Harry. I'm not really in the mood tonight..." Peter looked straight into Harry's eyes as he spoke, his voice conveying his sorryness as he made to sit up. Harry, moving quickly, put his hands on Peter's shoulders, holding his body down on the bed. His blue eyes were now hard as he stared down at Peter, the curly-haired boy staring back at him in confusion. "Harry, what are you doing?" Peter asked, his voice oddly quiet. The boy-in-question didn't respond, instead moving his attention back down to Peter's pants.

Peter's breath caught in his throat as he was hit with a wave of dèjá vu. The fingers pulling at his clothes, the hands bruising his skin, grips harsh and painful. It was all strikingly familiar and Peter knew that if he didn't stop Harry...

He pushed against the older's shoulders, turning his body left and right in an attempt to shake Harry off of him. Harry fights back. He struggles to keep Peter's thrashing body still, his hands scrambling to hold the boy down against the bed and get the rest of their clothes off. Peter kept fighting against Harry and, able to momentarily get one of his hands free, he swiped at Harry, his nails catching on the skin of the boy's chest, making it bleed.

The pain sent a burst of anger through Harry and in a moment of craze, he smashed his forehead against Peter's, the force dazing the boy. Peter's head pounded as he fought to stay conscious, his whole body trying to function, trying to cope with the fact that his brain had just been rattled in its cage. He felt Harry's hands undoing his pants and, over the buzzing in his ears, he could hear the zipper of Harry's pants as he slipped out of them but in his frazzled state, he wasn't strong enough to stop him. All he could do was feel and feel and _feel_.

He could feel the softness of the pajama bottoms he had been wearing, the fabric making his legs tingle as it brushed against his bare skin. He could feel the heat of Harry's fingers, the tips dragging across his bare skin, taking him in. He could feel— _oh god how he could feel_ —the pain as Harry pushed into him, his insides stretching to accomodate. It was too much, too much, _too much_. And suddenly there was screaming.

It was loud and piercing and it sounded terrified, utterly terrified, and it took Peter longer than it should've to realize that it was him that was screaming bloody murder. His screams were shrill, some of them cut off by loud sobs or Harry's chapped lips or Harry's rough hands. He struggled to move his hands up to push at Harry but the other was holding them tightly, both of his wrists pressed uncomfortably between Harry's hand and the mattress. His world was blanking until all he could do was feel the push and pull of Harry's movements. All sounds fading into a high-pitched noise. All sights blurring into a faulty frame-by-frame sequence. The taste of copper filling his mouth from a bitten tongue. The smell of shame putrid, making him gag.

He continued to scream until Harry pulled out of him suddenly, the boy's presence completely gone. Peter could hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh and bones cracking, still sobbing as somebody grabbed his trembling body and held it tightly. A blue light shone through his eyelids and it made him think about how Harry's eyes were blue. He could feel himself talking, feel the raspiness of his voice, his throat raw from the screaming. He could feel himself mumbling, the word "sorry" falling out of his mouth repeatedly. Over and over again, just "sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry". Fingers ran through his hair gently, a warm body pressed against his as he faded away.

Peter thought about how Harry's body was always cold. Then he was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second-to-last chapter guys!!! That's sad but exciting. Sadciting...anyway, the next chapter will be pretty much an epilogue. It will have SPOILER ALERT: a happy ending and a new relationship~  
> P.S.- Who here listens to kpop??? Have you seen the dance for Sistar's "Touch My Body"??? Omonaaa ^///^  
> October 11, 2014: Edited very very very minor things that won't change the story at all~


	5. Could I Be Coming Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When I go home again, my arms are wrapped around my friends"
> 
> Everything had changed while nothing had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (DON'T SKIP THE END NOTES WHEN YOU FINISH)

Seconds turned into minutes which then turned into days, weeks, months. Two months and Peter feels like it was just yesterday that he watched his Pops' fists hit Harry's face. He couldn't help the shudder that wracked his body at the sound of the other's name. Two months later, and Peter could still hear Harry whispering in his ear, stroking his hair, touching his skin. Two months later and everything had changed while nothing had.

It bothered Peter: the way his parents watched over him. It was constant and a bit invasive (but the last time he had brought that up, his Pops had cried and then disappeared for days; Peter hadn't mentioned it again). It wasn't that Peter didn't understand why they were doing it—he understood, _he really did_ —but the feeling of eyes on him...it brought back memories. Visions of hands and and bruises and screams and tears. And blood.

Two months later and Peter feels depressed. He feels dissapointed in himself; he feels upset by the fact that he _doesn't_ feel any better. He's safe now—Harry's gone and his family's there to protect him—but he still flinches when somebody raises their hand too quickly. He thinks back to the previous week: he had found a picture of him and Harry smiling widely and holding each other close; next thing he knew, he was on the floor, struggling to breathe, his chest tightening, his vision blurring. It was pathetic—he was pathetic. He just wanted to _get over it_ and move on for everyone's sake but it was hard. It was just _so fucking hard_.

It was hard to move on after everything. Even though he was gone, Harry had left such a lasting impression. In the morning, Peter had to remind himself to wear his glasses and not his contacts (Harry _had_ always hated those glasses). It always took him a moment, a moment of hesitation, before he could slip the frames onto his face. He tried styling his hair differently but every time he saw it, he wondered whether or not Harry would approve of it. All of his daily routines were affected, but it wasn't just that that Harry had ruined: Peter had begun to see Wade again, the mouthy boy always willing to hang out, even if it meant just sitting on the couch and doing nothing while Peter stared off into space.

It was hard to see Wade. After so long of barely meeting up, seeing Wade was like seeing the past when Peter was happy with great friends and a great boyfriend. _Harry_. It seemed like no matter what he did, Peter couldn't keep Harry out of his life. When Wade got too close, Peter had to force himself to stay still, telling himself that it's _just Wade_. That Wade wouldn't hurt him (then again, he had thought the same about Harry). Seeing Wade hurt him, yet, at the same time, seeing Wade kind of finalized everything. _Harry was gone, gone, gone_. Unlike Peter's parents who tiptoed around him, Wade didn't act too differently around him. While he did limit—though only slightly—the amount of skin contact they had, it was still there and it was familiar, welcome. Peter tells himself that skin contact is good. _It's good, it's good, it's good_. And so that's what they do.

Three months after Harry disappears (Peter doesn't know where he went, and he's too scared to ask either of his dads), Wade is over at the Tower constantly, pushing himself back into Peter's life and Peter doesn't know what to think or how to feel. Wade is a constant, a stability that Peter doesn't have by himself—Wade grounds him. Peter feels bad though: he's keeping Wade down, crushing the boy under the weight of his problems, forcing his burdens onto the boy's shoulders. He doesn't deserve that, and Peter tells him just that one day when they're in Peter's room, the curly-haired boy staring blankly at the wall. It's silent. But then Wade laughs and it's bitter and it hurts.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Peter has never heard Wade speak so seriously, but then again, everything's different now. He keeps quiet while Wade continues. "Why can't you see how I feel about you? I want you and I can't let you go. I won't let you go. Not when you need me the most." And Peter doesn't understand. _He doesn't get it_. Why was Wade saying these things? How could he mean them? How could he say something so sadly beautiful to somebody who was so battered and broken? It almost made Peter laugh.

"Don't," and Peter's heart broke as he continued because somewhere deep inside of him, he wanted Wade too—wanted to be held and kissed and loved—but Harry was something that plagued Peter day and night and Wade deserved better than that. Better than somebody who could only give shattered pieces of himself because he was beyond fixing. "You don't want me. I don't deserve you...you're perfect. _Don't you see?_ I will never be able to give you what you give me or what you want. I will never be enough. I want you too, Wade, but _Harry_ ," and then Peter breaks. Tears pour out and he tries to explain through the sobs that wrack his body but the words are jumbled and Wade stops him with a soft kiss that he's not ready for and he cries harder.

"You're perfect," Wade says over the cries and he doesn't say anything else until Peter calms down, tears still coming but the sobs dying down to the occassional hiccup. "I think you're perfect. You're perfect to me, _for me_ , and I can't promise that everything will always be great and easy, but I'll try my best and I'll be here even if you say that you don't want to give us a try. I'm willing to wait for you because you're worth it." Wade laces their fingers together and Peter thinks about how their hands _do_ look nice interlocked.

Wade's fingers are warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I just couldn't stay away from Spideypool)
> 
> Well, that concludes "Could I Be". I'm happy that I finished a chaptered story (for the first time ever) but I'm also sad that this is ending T_T I hope you guys enjoyed this mess, thanks for supporting this story~
> 
> Again: the story inspiration, title and all of the chapter titles came from the song "Could I Be" by Sylvan Esso. Also, the ending line was loosely inspired by The Outsiders (when Ponyboy notes that Cherry's eyes are green) and it serves as a contrast to the fact that Harry's hands were cold. 
> 
> Extra: it's 0:08 right now and I'm counting down the hours until Sunday (the 3rd) because I'll be turning 16, hooray~!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me [here](http://www.isaaclecter.tumblr.com) for requests or to just talk~


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